


The World Went Dark (2.0)

by Dentss



Series: The World Went Dark [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Arguing, Bathing/Washing, Broken Bones, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Gentleness, Injury, Large Cast, Lucifer is a Little Shit, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Roughness, Royalty, Tenderness, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dentss/pseuds/Dentss
Summary: First came the sirens. The sound was beyond anything anyone in the world had heard – a rising and falling sound drowning out the usual sounds of birdsong and the rustle of leaves.(Rewrite of The World Went Dark, the former work in this series is the first version. Apocalypse AU for DnD characters!)
Series: The World Went Dark [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959604
Kudos: 1





	1. The World Went Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my darling Alex](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+darling+Alex).
  * Inspired by [The World Went Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131247) by [Dentss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dentss/pseuds/Dentss). 



First came the sirens. The sound was beyond anything anyone in the world had heard – a rising and falling sound drowning out the usual sounds of birdsong and the rustle of leaves. Everything else fell silent from the chatter of townsfolk to the shrill screaming of a playful child. Inquisitive residents flooded out from their homes, all drawn to lift their eyes to the sky. It looked like the sky on any other day, unremarkable and full of clouds, God’s rays filtering through the gaps. The sirens got louder, a noise that would soon ingrain itself into everyone’s collective consciousness, finding a dark home in the backs of their minds.

As the sound took its final fall, the sky got darker, like a light being turned down, and then it snapped into darkness like a candle being snuffed out. Screams filled the air now, people rushing to try and return to their homes, vision obscured by the thick fog of darkness.

When the sirens returned to life, they came from the middle of the town, followed by a static voice, and mind-numbing white noise.


	2. Everyday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regus' POV

Awakening to the gentle sound of his landing vulture, Regus lets out a quiet sigh and with his eyes still closed he reaches out a single arm, hand open. His bare skin brushes against someone else’s, and he swiftly realises he’s not alone this morning. Cain’s behaviour isn’t any different as he slips a bunch of letters into Regus’ hand, so he knows it must be someone he’s used to.

The more he comes to, the more he realises just how trapped he is. He can move his one arm, but his waist and other arm are bound to the body behind him. Legs are wrapped around his own, ensuring that every part of their bodies is touching. Regus groans as he places the letters on his bedside table, attempting to flex his wings only to find that he can’t move them apart from perhaps the curl of the tips.

He raises his hoarse voice, sounding groggy as ever as he speaks, “Would you move? I must get up.”

An equally as tired grunt comes from the other, and he recognises the noise immediately. He is sharing his bed with Lucifer. It bothers him that he hadn’t instantly realised, especially since the amount of people he has slept with is extremely low. Then the aches come in, and his suspicion is confirmed tenfold.

“Really, I need to get up, Lucifer,” he insists, managing to just about untangle his legs, though with how frail they are it is no surprise when they burst with pain, “I have things to prepare myself for – I must take a bath.”

Lucifer doesn’t say anything as he rolls over, taking Regus straight along with him. Regus wiggles enough during the movement to be facing the man when he’s put down. He lets out a single huff and watches as Lucifer’s mouth twitches into a small smirk.

“You-” Regus holds himself back from cursing, watching Lucifer with his steel gaze, but not once does he shift or open his eyes. He resorts to letting out a light, “Please, Lucifer. Today is very important. I must take care of business, and I must find a way to worm you into the table plan. We can bathe together if you’d like?”

The door interrupts Lucifer before he can reply, and a guard barges in prematurely. Regus’ back is to them so he has to look into his mind to figure out who it is. He quickly recognises them as a newbie and he can’t help but feel terrible for them, because from where he is he also sees Lucifer’s eyes snap open and his tongue flicker dangerously from his tongue, followed by a deadly hiss. Regus sighs, glad that the blanket is covering him up to his shoulders, and he turns his head enough to be half-facing the guard.

“I-I’m sorry for interrupting, Great Emperor,” the guard stutters, bowing to him awkwardly. “Your bath – would you like it to be p-prepared?”

“It’s quite alright,” Regus says, sounding much calmer than he is, especially with Lucifer coiling tighter around him, his hiss continuing, “that would be lovely, thank you. Ask the butlers for my usual attendants, please.”

“Y-yes, your Imperial Majesty,” the guard bows again before hastily taking their leave, terrified. Regus can’t help but judge the lack of professionalism – even newcomers are trained. He lets it slide out of pure pity.

“ _Yes, your Imperial Majesty~_ ” Lucifer mimics the poor guard in the most annoying voice he could have possibly conjured. He relaxes a little, but doesn’t release Regus from his tight grasp. The much smaller man grumbles into the other’s chest.

“His Imperial Majesty would very much like to prepare for that bath,” Regus remarks, his voice clearer now that he’s woken up properly. He pulls his hands up to Lucifer’s bare chest, spreading his fingers across the skin for a moment before channelling his magic into a snap of the fingers.

Within a blink, Regus is on his feet at the side of the bed, staring down at Lucifer as his arms slump down next to him. The huge man gives the other a very unimpressed look before lowering his eyes, and Regus rolls his own, turning away as to not give him the pleasure. He throws on his silk gown, tightening it around his waist and sighing at the lovely feeling of the fabric on his body. He stretches his muscles to ease their aching and walks across the large room to his vanity desk. He observes his face in the small mirror there, and then his entire body in the fullbody mirror just to the side.

His dark purple skin is covered in reddish patches where he’s been scratched, his golden blood dried into small dots where Lucifer’s nails had breached the surface. He runs shaking fingers along the scratch marks, enjoying that they stand out above his endless scars. Regus sees Lucifer staring from the bed and the two share a smile.

“It’s strange of you to stay,” Regus says after some time checking himself over. “What compelled you?”

Lucifer hoists himself up onto his elbows, the blanket dropping beautifully over his shoulders, exposing his back. He squishes a pillow in his hands. “Five star accommodation plus an Emperor in my arms? C’mon Regus, even you should be able to figure that one out.”

“Such a rude reptile,” he scolds warmly, opening his curtains all the way. Cain is waiting on the balcony. Regus goes out to touch the beautiful bearded vulture, running his hands through rough feathers and whispering soft praises for his work this morning. Cain flies off once the petting is over.

“Half-goat, actually,” Lucifer says when Regus walks back inside. The large man gets a very hard glare.

“Well ‘half-goat viper demon with a hyena’s smile and a cobra’s charm’ is a little too wordy,” Regus hums, “and we’re not at that level yet.”

Lucifer raises his brow, his tongue flickering from between his lips. He sits up, almost teasingly showing off his bare torso. He stretches, making quite a scene of it. “What level are we at, your _majesty?”_

“A level where you can speak to me like that without being punished,” Regus answers matter-of-factly as he heads for his wardrobe. He begins to look through his clothes for what he would like to wear, completely caught off guard by Lucifer’s next comment.

“I think we both know who deals out the punishments, Regus,” he hisses smoothly.

Regus dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “If you say so, Lucifer. Now put on your clothes and come along, the maids will be here soon to take care of my bedsheets and I would prefer if you weren’t in them.”

“Sounds like I’m an unwanted guest,” Lucifer huffs lightheartedly.

“Not at all – you’re always welcome here, Lucifer. You’re moreso an unexpected guest,” he corrects, averting his gaze as the other gets out of bed and ignoring Lucifer’s remark about his ‘goods’. He pulls out and folds each piece of his outfit over his arm – a robe lined especially at the top with fur and covered in chains, a lovely deep purple shirt, and soft silken trousers that are more for comfort than for show, no doubt going to be obscured by the robe. He also fetches out his golden foot protectors, holding them tight in his hand.

When he turns around, Lucifer is as ready as he is going to get, his torso bare and his lower half covered by bottoms from the day before. Regus rolls his eyes but smiles, leading him out into the hallway and through into the washroom.

The entire room mimics a sort of cave, painted to resemble a mossy hideaway. Crystal lines the roof, illuminating the room with a light forever trapped within them. In the part of the room with the sloped roof sits a natural-looking pool of water, rather large and in some places deep. It had been designed initially for Regus and his children who bore resemblance to animals, but eventually the staff had been allowed to use it too so long as they booked in a time. It is a completely serene area for relaxation and washing.

Regus places his clothes upon the stone heating shelves to the side of the room and strips of his gown. He heads to the pool on the other side, looking over the clean water the butlers had filled it with, and he reaches down to touch the water. It’s cold, as per usual, allowing Regus to magically heat it to just the right temperature before he slips in, sitting in the shallows with his back against the pool wall. In the corner all of his usual ointments and solutions sit, many of his own design, ready for his use. There is also a bottle of red wine and two glasses, leading him to assume that the poor guard who had walked in had mentioned that Regus had company.

Lucifer joins him, taking great pleasure in spreading himself out as far as he can, taking great pleasure in the hot water. “I should sleep with you Sanguises more often.”

A ripple of jealousy passes through Regus, one that he hides from the other with every fibre of his being, until he speaks and regrets it. “You should sleep with _me_ more often.”

His mistake immediately receives a smirk. “I thought we were just at speaking level birdie, it’s not like we’re together.”

“Well- no, we’re not,” Regus says hurriedly, sinking down deeper into the water with a frown, “but I do enjoy your company, and I would prefer to keep interacting with you.”

Lucifer hums lowly, tapping a finger against the wall of the pool. “To be honest, once I was done here in Aldelis I was gonna leave anyway. There’s nothing really tying me down to this place, so why hang around?”

“That’s fair, but I can assure you, there are charms to this world even I have yet to discover, and I’ve been here since day one,” he points out, watching as Lucifer fully submerges in the water, sending bubbles to the surface and making very silly noises as he does it.

They stay like that for some time before Regus lowers his head and covers his hair and crown-like horns in the water, enjoying the way the heat floods over his skin. He scrubs the horns with his fingernails and runs his shaky fingers through his hair before sitting back up and looking through his bottles. He very purposefully picks out a formula with an exotic flowery scent – he always chooses the rare smells when he knows he will be around other people. He lathers his hair in it and washed it out gently and picks out another for his second wash, combining the scents into an extravagant smell. Next he washes his body and finally his dark feathers, wishing he still had his original colours and wondering if one day he will be granted them again.

When he is done, Lucifer resurfaces, reaching over Regus to look through all his different solutions. The smaller man huffs but does not move.

“Your titles are absolutely ridiculous, by the way. I mean… I know for a fact that _Great Emperor_ and _your Imperial Majesty_ aren’t the only things they call you – I would kill someone before they called me that,” he rambles on as he washes himself, not even glancing in Regus’ direction.

“Someone is salty,” the smaller man murmurs, allowing his wings to fall completely under the water.

Lucifer laughs lightly, “Titles are for people with tiny dicks.”

“Well actually, I worked by way to the top and earned my title with tact and intelligence,” Regus says smugly, reaching over to poke a finger right into the middle of Lucifer’s chest, “you’re just jealous that I beat you to it.”

The movement was clearly not a good choice, because within moments there is a hard grip around his wrist and he is slammed against the wall of the pool, Lucifer’s long tail snaking around his body. “Oh really? Then what’s the title for someone who owns the Emperor? Your master, maybe?”

Regus’ face goes red and he searches for words, taken aback by the sudden movement. His other arm is limp at his side, his legs pinned between the other’s. “Last time I checked, we weren’t in a relationship, so even if I _did_ decide you owned me, you’d still be beneath me by law.”

Fingers tug at his hair and he lets out a rough groan, his head being tilted back, throat on display. Lucifer’s forked tongue slithers from between his lips. “With our size difference, you'll always be looking up to me, and besides only I can decide whether I want you or not. I know you like to break the rules for me~”

“Don’t disrespect your elders and higher-ups, Lucifer. Remember that the only reason you’re here is because of me, and whilst I do break the rules, I prefer to stay on top,” Regus smiles, his regal stare burning into Lucifer’s.

The snakelike man pulled away, releasing Regus’ wrist and lifting himself out of the bath. “Alright birdie, you keep on acting all scary. I have a lot to do other than keeping your sad, lonely self company. You know, I think I have a _date_ later.”

“Actually, I’ve planned you quite the date with my private meeting room – it’s just begging for your company for the gathering tonight. I have some news that you will certainly want to hear,” Regus smirks as he too gets out, heading straight for his luxuriously soft towel to dry himself. The towels are warm, reminding him of how glad he is to have asked for the stone heating shelves.

“You… know I said I was busy, right?” Lucifer sounds just as interested as he is displeased.

“It doesn’t matter because you have no say in it,” he says simply, wrapping the towel around his waist and humming in satisfaction. He watches as Lucifer also takes a towel, and his eyes fall down to the glowing white scar on his back. Regus knows very well what happened, and the scar digs it in even deeper. He frowns, looking away, hoping Lucifer didn’t notice or at least didn’t mind.

“You really want this meeting to go up in flames?” Lucifer asks surprisingly seriously, though the look on his face suggests otherwise.

“I am not incompetent, Lucifer,” Regus answers. Once he’s certain he’s dry, he puts on today’s clothes and leaves with Lucifer to get breakfast and start the day.


	3. Meeting / Problem

When everyone is seated at the meeting table, Regus takes a deep breath and stands, tucking in the low chair he had decided on. He prefers to stand up as he speaks, drawing everyone’s attention, and he looks over all the turned heads with a stone cold gaze. Of course, not everyone invited has attended. Of his children, only Draco, Anguilla, Corvus, Apis, and Alces have shown up. Ophelia has made an appearance, Lucifer was there already, and Soren has travelled from his castle to attend. Canis, who always makes an effort to attend, is there too, looking quite uncomfortable under Regus’ glare. The table feels barer than ever before, and Regus is honestly disappointed.

He figures there’s no point lingering on it, so he begins talking, his voice drowning out the quiet flirting that Lucifer is attempting to direct at Corvus, who is blatantly ignoring him. Regus reminds himself to scold Lucifer later. “Thank you all for answering my summons, as I expect of you. The meaning of this meeting is of most importance, so I must request your full attention.” He opens his wings as he usually does when he gets down to business, making himself bigger, more dominant. “All of you have had business in, or have at least heard of, Terran.”

There are nods from across the table. “Well, lately my contact with them has gone completely blank. Every single person I have been able to contact and everyone I have been monitoring is seemingly MIA. This is of great concern to me, as we have a number of established trade routes and agreements that have been cut off. Most importantly, people that we have been keeping an eye on are no longer showing up via any magical or nonmagical means.”

A moment of silence spreads across the room before Corvus leans forward, his hands folded beneath his chin. “What is it, then, that we have been summoned for? You set up trades, I simply set up negotiations. What do you expect the princes to do, or your boyfriend over here?”

Lucifer goes to speak but Regus cuts him off immediately. “Because this could put the Kingdom’s welfare in serious trouble. That, and I need more than one person to go in order to figure out what it is that is happening there. You all will assist me in one way or another.”

Corvus, being ever defiant to his father, curls his hair around his finger with a soft sigh. “Why don’t you send Soren with a bunch of your assassin people?”

This time it’s Draco who argues, “We don’t have anyone in that field to spare, and we would need royal guards. I thought you forbade Soren from going out alone anyway.”

And then Canis pipes up, his voice quiet and flat, “Yes, you declared that to all of us.”

Corvus lets out a very annoyed noise. “Well then I take it back. Send Soren.”

Anguilla, who is sat back in his chair and sipping the drink he’d asked to be specially made, piped up, “Don’t be such a dick, Corv. Make up your mind.”

“I do what I want,” Corvus hisses defensively, pointing across the table to Soren, who looks like he’s about to cry. “Why don’t we ask him? You’re willing to go, aren’t you, Soren?”

Soren blinks a few times, opens his mouth to speak, “I-”

Apis raises his voice, effectively cutting _everyone_ off, “Leave the fucking child alone, Corvus. Why don’t we send _you_ instead?”

Corvus looks offended. “Because I have duties as a King, Apis. You wouldn’t understand since you spend all your time moping in this palace.”

Regus sees Apis take a deep breath, ready to explode.

Regus slams his hands down on the table with such force that it almost hurts. Everyone immediately goes silent. “How dare you all be so rude at my table. I decide who goes, and where they go. Learn your places or leave disgraced.”

Corvus doesn’t even look embarrassed. He opens his mouth to speak again, no doubt ready to say something vile, but words never come out.

Actually, when Regus’ eyes come to and he hits the ground, he’s not at the table at all.

His entire body aches from the sudden impact, and he feels the most vicious pain rip through his limbs. It causes him to curl up into himself, his wings trembling as he wraps them around his body. Regus is, to be quite honest, terrified. That’s never happened before, and he’s never been in so much pain from a fall, and he fears that he’s broken every bone in his body for a second until he realises that he would be in a much worse situation if that were the case.

 _Did I pass out?_ he wonders, his entire body shaking as the pain gets worse and then starts to get better afterwards. _I don’t pass out – why would I pass out?_

Regus tries to lift himself up onto his hands, but one gives way as soon as he puts pressure on it, pain erupting throughout the entire limb and sending him back to the ground, where he lays uselessly, reminded of times when he was younger that he wants so badly to forget. He moves his wings just to check that they haven’t been torn from his body, relieved beyond belief that they are still there.

Embarrassment is the next thing that he feels, followed by pure humiliation when he realises that someone else is here too. On the bright side, he would know now if he’d passed out. Strong arms pick him up from the floor with ease and Regus wants to squirm away and get to his feet on his own but he’s in a lot of pain with his legs too. He opens his eyes and the first thing he notices is that it is so unbelievably _dark._

Everything around is shrouded in darkness. He can just about make out trees surrounding them. Nothing looks quite right – the colour is drained out of everything due to the lack of light to bring it out. He looks up at the face of the person carrying him, and he’s both relieved and horrified to find out that it’s Lucifer.

The man looks intoxicated but apart from that he seems to be much more okay than Regus is. He’s looking down at him, concerned, and Regus tries to lift his hands to touch Lucifer’s face to make sure he’s real, but his one arm isn’t moving at all anymore and he can barely feel it underneath the agony.

“Lucifer- what happened?” is the first thing he says. His voice is pitifully hoarse, wracked with pain and even a little fear.

“Uh…” the man hesitates, looking around, “I don’t know, but we’re here now,” he pauses, then a smirk crosses his face, and Regus hates that he’s still so happy. “Damn Regus, I didn’t think you could do this in your anger.”

“Well, _usually_ I can’t do this in my anger – I learned to manage it,” he answers, unable to muster any humour in return. “Anyway, let me down, I don’t need your help.”

“I’m just doing what any good _boyfriend_ would do,” Lucifer chuckles, clearly having taken the complete wrong lesson from the meeting.

Regus goes to slap him, only to remember his arm is not in working order, and he lets out a frustrated groan. Lucifer thinks it’s funny, though – and bursts into laughter. Regus doesn’t understand what’s so funny at first, but when he thinks about it, it is a complete change in dynamic, and Regus really is in need of Lucifer despite all the threats he’d made this morning, so he too throws back his head – painfully – and laughs.

When Regus is let down from Lucifer’s arms, he puts down both of his legs at once, but one barely hits the ground before he doubles over and lets out a strangled cry. He looks down and there’s more than one part of his leg that seems injured. His ankle is swollen and the smallest part of his lower leg has a kink in it. It is, without a doubt, broken. He can stand on his other leg just fine when he spreads out his wings for balance, and he tests out moving with it. He can walk with a serious limp. It doesn’t help that one of his arms is completely unusable. Thankfully the rest of his body is okay apart from the dull ache of the fall, and some other ache that he’s had for many thousands of years.

Regus sighs and places his other hand on the broken arm. He worries when he doesn’t feel the warmth of his healing magic, and he worries even more when the arm doesn’t change at all. He tries again, and again, and then tries to direct a fireball towards the ground in front of him. He tries to create frost and then tries to grow a flower in his palm. Nothing works, and finally he tries the most important power he’s ever been given. He reaches into his mind to try check the futures he has always been able to see, but even they are gone. All he has of it is the knowledge and memory of having it.

Now more panicked than humiliated, he digs his fingers into his long hair and crumbles to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut and trying harder than ever before to see the futures. Nothing comes at all, and he folds over this time in emotional pain, because it all clicks in his mind what is happening and why it is happening.

“My magic is gone,” he lets out a choked breath, his eyes wide in panic, “I can’t do anything – I can’t heal myself.”

Lucifer is at his side in an instant, but when fingers touch his back Regus jerks away, turning to face him with a completely hysterical look in his eyes. He watches as Lucifer withdraws, fighting with reality and what he’s witnessing in his head. In that moment it’s almost as though Lucifer isn’t Lucifer but instead his father, hands dripping with blood, about to dig between his shoulder blades. Regus’ wings twitch again involuntarily and he realises that Lucifer isn’t reaching for him, and his breathing calms just the slightest bit. He’s not being injured, and his magic being gone isn’t Lucifer’s fault. He tells himself over and over that he’s not in that situation anymore, but he still can’t quite bring himself back completely. He begins to try and regulate his breathing, taking off his robe and setting it on the ground to cool his temperature.

He manages to speak, though he isn’t looking at Lucifer when he does. “Don’t touch me right now.”

“Alright,” Lucifer responds, audibly shuffling back further away.

Regus is grateful that he seems to understand, and takes a few moments to steady his mind and his breath. Once the disgusting feeling of hands fades away, he lowers his fingers from his hair and sits with his legs at his side, the only position he can manage where he can relax without pain, and once he’s settled into it and calmed himself he folds his wings and sighs. “Thank you so much, Lucifer.”

“It’s nothing,” he smiles in response, shuffling to sit next to Regus, though he doesn’t touch him yet, still respecting his wishes, “and anyway, my magic is gone too – I can’t summon my wings or anything. We might be in that place you were talking about at the table. So… hey, at least we’re here.”

“I was thinking about that before… _that,_ and I think we are. I’m starting to realise why they might not be able to get in touch with Aldelis,” Regus says with his voice croaking.

“Especially if they’ve been using only magic to do it in the past,” Lucifer nods thoughtfully. “Either way, without magic it’s probably really hard to navigate in this darkness.”

“You’re right… I don’t know where we even are,” he takes another moment to look around, attempting to take in some defining detail perhaps, but all he can see is trees just like before. “…I think I could use that back rub now.”

Lucifer laughs softly and gladly obliges for a minute or two before scooping Regus up in his arms and cradling him carefully. Regus sighs but doesn’t move, instead relaxing into the touch.

His stare remains upon the sky – or, really, what seems like a lack thereof. He’s amazed that it’s pitch black, not even the smallest change in colour anywhere to be seen. There’s no clouds, no stars, _nothing,_ no matter how desperately he searches for them. He wonders if it’s even night time, and if not then how will they be able to tell?

Regus wishes Fel could be with them. He always knows how to tell the time, even when they’re in the middle of the palace and there’s nothing to indicate otherwise.

That brings Regus to another alarming thought. If Lucifer is here, how many of the others were transported too? Had everyone at the table been targeted by someone or something? If so, who or what? And is there any way to fix it?

His mind is racing and eventually he sighs, looking into Lucifer’s strange eyes. His goatlike pupils give him an impression of seeing more than any person should be able to. “What are we going to do?”

Lucifer is silent for a few moments and the smaller man can almost hear the gears turning in his head. “Sort out your injuries first, and then we should go searching for others and gather supplies as we go.”

“Sounds about right,” Regus nods. He looks down at his clothes. They are already dirty from the fall, and he supposes he won’t be going home for a while, so he lets out a rather sad sigh and untucks his shirt. “Use the bottom of my shirt to make a temporary sling for my arm, please, and to bind my leg where needed.”

“Alright _boss,”_ Lucifer chuckles, setting Regus back down to sit facing him. He easily rips through the fabric with his nails and lifts the dangling arm into a backwards ‘L’ across Regus’ chest. He ties is as tightly as he can and tests the tightness. Regus watches him, pleased when the arm doesn’t move much in the makeshift binding. Next comes the leg.

When Lucifer touches it, pain strikes him, travelling up his spine like electric. He takes a deep breath, holding back from crying out again, and keeps his leg still. Lucifer wraps it until the kink isn’t visible, and then binds his ankle too, using the gaps between his toes to make loops and tighten it. Regus lets him poke at his toes and talons, testing their flexibility, until satisfied, and when he leans back he looks satisfied.

“That’s good. You should probably avoid walking on that leg, you know. There are a pair of strong arms at his _Imperial Majesty’s_ service,” Lucifer lifts Regus up onto his feet – or, well, _foot –_ and waits for his response.

Regus does seriously think about it. He hates being dependent on others, but he’s going to be nothing but a burden if he keeps trying to push onwards in this state. Reluctantly, he steps forwards against Lucifer, who immediately understands and picks him up again. He feels safe being held against the large man’s chest as they start walking through the trees in the darkness, and he decides this isn’t too bad.


	4. No Matches

Even when her world is thrust into darkness, Ophelia feels terrible for Soren.

It’s the one thing that sticks in her mind – the sight of Soren stiffening, tears filling his eyes under his father’s glare. She can’t get it out of her head and when she is flung into the world of darkness. The first thing she does when she stands up is look around for him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Ophelia does, however, see Corvus, and she is filled with a very sudden and very strong anger. She wants to completely let go and kick him whilst he’s still on the floor, but she keeps herself together as she looks around.

It’s dark and cold, horrifyingly dark and cold. She hates the dark. Ophelia can’t seem to take her eyes from it, though, nervously staring into it, an overwhelming feeling of being watched washing over her. It makes her tremble, and she barely notices when fingers wrap around her own.

Ophelia turns around when she does, terrified, only for her pink eyes to settle onto Axel’s face. The sight calms her in an instant and she reaches out to cling to him, glad when he pulls her against his chest. He’s a welcome warmth against the freezing cold around them. Ophelia listens to his heartbeat, breathing in rhythm with him, feeling the rumble in his chest as he speaks.

“You’re safe, Ophelia,” he says quietly, squeezing her tightly. He runs fingers through her hair and slips into a language that is much more comfortable for her, trying to comfort her. All it takes is for him to slip one word – _sotvis_ – and she feels safer in an instant, trying not to cry. It meant everything to her to have a brother like Axel. Her other… it would be a mistake to refer to him as a brother.

But when her mind calms down, she suddenly realises something. “You weren’t at the meeting… How are you here?”

Axel lets her step away, and she sees the confusion that spreads across his eyes too, even though they’re pure white, as he realises. “And you weren’t on the ship with me and the guys. What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” Ophelia sighs, genuinely upset that she doesn’t have the answers. She always manages to find answers to give to Axel.

“Not even my dear old man would ever do something like this to us,” Corvus butts into the conversation. Axel immediately tenses in response to hearing his voice, squeezing Ophelia’s hand tight. She can’t bring herself to speak back to Corvus, not even for him. She wishes she was braver and stronger, and then she wishes that Regus was here. He didn’t hesitate to tell Corvus off. Ophelia wants to be like that so badly – she’s never really stood her own.

Axel turns around to face the terribly tall man, facing his father with as much confidence as he can muster. “Fuck off and freeze to death, Corvus.”

Ophelia pauses for a moment. That was an unexpected level of confidence. She wonders if perhaps Axel’s been angry this entire time but he just hid it to take care of her. The thought of it makes her want to cry in gratitude.

“Oh my,” Corvus smiles, his slim eyes narrowing, “how rude from the child that-”

“Don’t finish that fuckin’ sentence,” a new voice, one Ophelia also instantly recognises, interrupts. Corvus snaps his head around, his hair gracefully bouncing over his shoulders and falling perfectly. It doesn’t seem real.

“Look what this curse threw up,” Corvus laughs bitterly, and when Ophelia looks past him she is pleased to see a more than okay looking Smock standing cross-armed behind him. “Pretty little pirate can’t handle a bit of teasing? Don’t tell me you and Axel have something going on.”

“You listen here-“ Smock threatens, pointing a finger at Corvus and resting a hand on the hilt of his cutlass.

This time a completely new voice pipes in and Ophelia isn’t quite sure who it is. She doesn’t see him at first, but then she lowers her eyes to see that he’s kneeling on the ground, treating a leg wound that looks quite painful. How he’s managing to keep his composure amazes her. She figures out pretty quickly that he’s an Autumn Eladrin, and she can’t help but admire the beautiful orange leaflike ears he has. “Please, break it up. The last thing we need right now is fighting. It’s freezing cold and my leg is injured.”

Axel turns his attention to the man in an instant, completely dropping his father for him, and Ophelia figures that this must have been one of the people on the ship with him. She doesn’t know who he is and she certainly doesn’t want to help treat the wound, so she backs off a little and stares instead, watching as Axel takes off his belt to compress the gash.

Ophelia turns to Corvus, trying to put aside her hatred for the man as she stares into his eyes to try and find some sympathy or anything in there. Instead she sees something cold and bitter that she certainly does not want to unpack, and she looks to the floor.

Axel gets up from the man and approaches Smock. Without any word at all, he digs his hand under Smock’s coat and draws out a decently-sized flask – his favourite alcohol flask. Ophelia watches the annoyance spread across Smock’s face.

“Oi, what’re ya doin’ with that?” the pirate bites, following Axel to the stranger’s side.

“Calm your tits, dear. I just need a little to treat Kea,” Axel responds with a soft huff. He sticks to his word, tearing out a small piece of fabric from the Eladrin’s shirt and rolling it up into a ball. He puts just a little alcohol onto it and then hands it back to Smock (who hurriedly hides it once more) and then starts dabbing it into the uncovered wound. The Eladrin – _Kea?_ – hisses in pain, his entire body tensing as he clutches the dull grass underneath him. He looks about ready to convulse by the time Axel’s cleaned the wound. Corvus makes a disgusted noise and turns away, seemingly surveying their surroundings.

Ophelia doesn’t watch as Axel binds the gash. Instead, she sits at Kea’s side and looks at his face. He’s got lovely, kind green eyes, and dark black ‘freckles’ running across his cheeks and nose, running back all the way to his ears. He’s pale and has bright orange hair that curls wildly, even though it looks tightly tied into a bun. His voice is soft when he greets her. “You must be Ophelia. Axel speaks about you often.”

The look that Axel shoots Kea in response is telling. She laughs softly as she watches him stand up and go to speak to Smock. “He is such a secret sweetie.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Kea chuckles warmly, regarding her with a smile. “I’m Keaberos. We’ve never met before, but I work under Axel as a therapist.”

“Ah! You are the therapy man! He’s spoken about you before,” Ophelia nods, remembering vague conversation about Axel’s wellbeing and some of his other workers. She quickly unlearns the nickname ‘Kea’ in place of his full name, feeling it rude to use a nickname after just meeting. “What happened to your leg?”

Keaberos looks down at the injury, now beneath his clothes and compressed with more fabric and the belt, which has been twisted around far more times than any belt should ever be. “When I fell – or, I suppose, when _we_ fell – I think I must have been dropped onto that rock over there.”

He points to a rock that comes at the top to a rather sharp point. There’s blood all over it, so she quickly decides that he’s probably right and looks away.

“I apologise, Ophelia. I take it you’re not keen on blood or wounds?” he asks gently, a small smile reassuring her that he’s not looking to joke about it or make fun of her. She nods with a smile in return, enjoying the genuine kindness on his face. “I hate to bother you, but would you mind helping me up? Don’t worry – I don’t weigh much.”

Ophelia gladly reaches out to lift him up and lets him rely on her support when he stands. He’s not heavy at all and she is happy to help, especially since his body heat is the only thing keeping her warm. Her silky dress is doing nothing to keep her safe from this weather, but she supposes that she couldn’t have prepared for whatever is happening. By the looks of it, nobody did.

She tries not to come to conclusions but she has a creeping suspicion that this might have been to do with Regus raising his voice at Corvus. From what little she knew of the man, he was very dangerous and not to be angered… But at the same time, how many times has he had to raise his voice at Corvus before? Nothing like this has happened before, and considering Corvus’ silence about his father, she suspects that even he doesn’t blame Regus.

Axel eventually turns around from his conversation and opens his palm in the direction of an empty space between the trees. He just stands there for at least a minute, as though waiting for something to happen, only for nothing to happen at all. She recognises the action immediately, so when it doesn’t work a feeling of pure nausea overcomes her and she almost loses her tight grip on Keaberos, who falters just a little at her side.

“I hate to say it, but we have a _huge_ problem here,” Axel begins, lowering his hand and staring at it, glare scalding, “because my magic appears not to be working. Anyone else able to do _anything?”_

Corvus moves to cast a spell himself, fingers curled ever so slightly, palm facing the ground beneath Axel’s feet. Nothing happens and Corvus looks more disappointed than worried to begin with, but the reality kicks in very swiftly. “You must be joking.”

Next Smock tries, and once again nothing happens. The three magic users look at each other in shock and worry, and Ophelia is pretty sure that’s the only gaze Axel has _ever_ shared with his father other than hatred, which certainly makes the situation feel even the more dire.

She looks to the trees beyond them, the feeling of being watched settling even deeper into her bones. “If we don’t have fire magic, we need to figure something out… It’s so cold.”

Everyone nods. It’s nice to have them in agreement for once. Axel claps his hands together and looks to the trees. “Well our search is out _there,_ then. Only problem is that we can’t see shit, and I don’t want to risk anyone going missing.”

Corvus makes a thoughtful hum before approaching the nearest tree. Its first branch is about the size of the average human, so the King stands about a foot and two inches taller than it. He snaps it off with small struggle, then snaps it more to break it into smaller pieces which he throws to Axel’s feet. He goes around the picks off the lowest branches of the tree, gathering a nice little bunch of fuel for them to use, which Axel starts to arrange into a suitable campfire. Keaberos is the one to thank Corvus since everyone else simply hates him so much that they’d rather not speak to him.

Axel moves very swiftly and pulls Smock’s flask out of his coat – again! – like lightning. He draws out something else, too, clutching each item in one hand. Smock takes a moment to process what happened, then he lunges into action, desperately reaching to retrieve the flask. Axel has other plans for it, though.

The changeling unscrews the flask and tips all of the contents onto the collected firewood, earning a loud gasp from Smock, and then he flips open the other item – a lighter, it seems – and flicks it into action. It takes a few moments to get the blaze going but it’s ready soon enough, spreading a warm orange light across the ground and everyone around it. The fire only grows, and so does what looks like anger in Smock’s eyes.

In one fluid movement, Smock throws himself at the crouched Axel, pounding him into the dirt. Axel’s taken by surprise but acts quickly, twisting his legs to kick at the other, buying him some time to stand up again.

“Ya can’t just steal my fuckin’ alcohol like that, Axel!” Smock hisses as he throws a quick punch. It connects with a smack and the changeling recoils, his purple skin turning a darker reddish shade, his huge scar only showing up more against it.

“What else am I meant to light a damn fire with? We need it to survive, dipshit,” Axel responds. Instead of a punch, he swipes with an open hand, his fingernails catching olive skin and drawing dark red blood. Axel hesitates when he sees it, his eye widening, but it opens him up for another attack that sends them barrelling back to the floor. Axel wraps his arms tight around Smock’s back, binding them together, and Ophelia watches in horror as sharp teeth sink straight down into the side of Smock’s neck. The pirate goes red and lets out a noise that’s mostly pain but partially something else, but he pushes Axel away. When Ophelia sees the wound she feels sick; there’s clearly a small piece actually missing from the side of his neck, and there’s a lot of blood coming from it. It’s definitely not bad enough to be fatal, but it looks agonising. Both of them look ready to strike again, so Ophelia lets go of Keaberos, who looks to be just about able to stand on his own, and rushes to grab Axel. Corvus rolls his eyes and takes Smock, holding them both apart though they clearly want to go at each other again.

Ophelia lowers her eyes to Axel, who seems to have suffered a little injury too. He must have hit his head hard on something on the ground because there’s the slightest bit of blood in his messy hair. He’s covered in dirt and his face is bruised. Blood coats his lips and fingernails. She hates the sight of it, can’t stand how unwell it makes her feel.

“Get the fuck off me,” Smock demands once he realises who is holding him, but the King isn’t quite as frail as he appears at first sight, so he’s able to resist the struggling arms of the pirate. Smock’s black hair is a mess too, his dark eyes blown wide with adrenaline. Axel says nothing, glaring at the other with his eye half-lidded, lips parted as he takes deep breaths.

Ophelia looks between them with pursed lips and a scolding glare, though really she can’t find the heart to stand her ground and tell them both off. Keaberos is of greater courage, and breaks the silence with a steady voice. “We can settle this later, and with less unnecessary violence. For now, we need to relax around the fire and think about our next move. As far as I’m concerned, we’re not safe – we don’t know where we are.”

With a reluctant grumble from the pirate, the two are released. Ophelia is all too aware of the wound on Smock’s neck, but she feels a little better when Keaberos limps towards him, one of his first-aid kits in hand.

Axel stays in place for a moment, then grabs Ophelia’s hand and drags her down so they can sit together by the fire. He’s quiet, and she doesn’t have to ask for his thoughts to know them. She squeezes his hand tightly. “You acted wrong, but you did not start the fight. It is okay to defend yourself.”

“Not with him- it’s different,” he shakes his head, sounding deflated. He’s completely still, all apart from the fingers flexing around Ophelia’s. When they tighten, his sharp nails press against her knuckles. She doesn’t mind.

“Why is it different?” she asks, confused. Axel doesn’t have mercy for anyone. He’d defend himself against his friends easily, so why not Smock?

Axel doesn’t answer. He stares into the fire he made, his pure white eyes void of emotion. He hasn’t been so distant in years, even through everything Ophelia’s seen him through. She leans against his side, looking into the flames with him. This was a very bad start to an already bad situation. A glance in Smock’s direction isn’t at all reassuring – he looks like he’s ready to start another fight, even with his injured neck. It’s been patched up, but it must hurt like Hell.

She sighs, ignoring the others as they start to sit around the fire to warm themselves up. Their conversation doesn’t seem all that important anyway, and she doesn’t want to hear a word from Corvus’ mouth.


End file.
